


Rick's legs

by Tiofrean



Series: Thangs and stuff and smut - Rickyl style [2]
Category: The Walking Dead (TV)
Genre: Anal Sex, Biting, Bottom Rick, Dirty Talk, Fingering, M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Rutting, Semi-Public Sex, Swearing, Top Daryl, a kind of anyway, because daryl behaves like a little crazed cat sometimes, just leg kink
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-17
Updated: 2015-05-17
Packaged: 2018-03-31 00:10:54
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,822
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3957139
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tiofrean/pseuds/Tiofrean
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Daryl relaxes after a long day's work. His perfect evening out spent watching Rick work out on his little prison-farm. Rick joins him. Smut ensues. With bowlegs. Because Daryl has a thing for them.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Rick's legs

**Author's Note:**

> For Misha, because we both have a thing for Rick's bowlegs. Daryl, apparently, is on with the ride.

Daryl sat outside the prison and lit his cigarette. It was nearing evening, the sun has already set, and there was only Rick out there, still digging in the soil on his small ridiculous mini-farm.

Daryl had repaired some shit around the prison that day, and he was particularly feeling that he deserved at least two smokes today, so he thought, why not? He wandered out and sat himself with his back to the wall, crossbow at the ready, and his eyes set on the working man.

Rick had his shirt on, it was almost evening, after all. Even in Georgia's warmer-than-hell climate, the evenings near autumn were chilly, and that meant people were covering themselves. Daryl didn't mind one bit. He got his sheriff all to himself to disrobe as he pleased every night in their cell. After that night a few weeks earlier, people knew they were together so they didn't dare to wander near Rick and Daryl's cell until absolutely necessary. And besides, the resident prison badasses moved their stuff to another cell, one that was sufficiently away from others.

Daryl took a long drag and held it in his lungs, marveling at Rick's silhouette. The man was a wonderful statue, not cut out of marble, but equally a masterpiece. His body was lean but strong, no fat left on him – a courtesy of living in the times of the dead as your neighbors – meant Daryl could see every shift of his muscles underneath the tanned skin.

Rick has taken to working in his little garden shirtless throughout most of the summer, and it gave him a beautiful sort of tan – not too much, not too little. Just the right shade of gold, which had been brought out even more every time he put on that one off-white t-shirt Daryl had found and brought back from a run. Until the t-shirt got dirty again, that is, as it did the last time, mostly thanks to Daryl pushing the sheriff up against a half-rotten log in the woods and rutting against him like a man possessed.

Daryl bit his lip and flicked the ash off his cigarette, trying hard not to think about how the mud and dirt smeared all over Rick's toned chest brought out every curve of his muscles. Daryl tried very hard not to think who was the one more smeared in the dirt that one time, two weeks earlier on a supply run, because he had been lying on his back on the ground, pleading Rick to fuck him harder. Daryl tried incredibly hard not to think about how they had stopped mid-way back for a second round, and how Rick's legs had felt wrapped around his hips... Daryl tried hard. And failed.

Especially, when said legs were on perfect display in front of him, outlined by the leftover glow from the recently set sun. Two lean, bow-ish, black shapes standing in a sharp contrast to the orange sky. The hunter shook his head to clear it, trying not to let the blood flow to his other head. He finished the cigarette and sat there quietly, just enjoying the show.

Rick bowed down for something, then half-knelt, half-bent, and started to fight with some deeply-rooted weed growing uninvited on his little farm. As the sheriff's struggle got more heated, Daryl felt his own struggle getting the best of him, and, once Rick triumphantly tore the plant out of the soil, Daryl was ready to tear his own pants open.

The way Rick's body worked, the way his muscles shifted, the way his goddamn legs moved was purely sinful, and the hunter had a real problem now, growing inside his pants and starting to insist on his attention.

Huffing out a mental 'down, boy', Daryl shifted into a more comfortable position. Of course he could have walked away from there, go back inside, lay on his cot and fall asleep. Maybe rub one off before that, too. But hell, Rick was right there, and even if Daryl could feel exhaustion of not enough sleep and too much work creep up his spine, it was quickly rushed over by the overwhelming feeling of need and want for his lover. Daryl was crazy about Rick's body, and he was even crazier about his mind, and the two things combined together, framed in a perfect picture of long legs and shadows, it made Daryl _wild_.

So he calmly whistled from his spot under the prison wall, finishing another cigarette and squishing it on the ground. 

Rick's back straightened and he turned back, looking for the source of the whistle. He knew it was Daryl, the hunter used that whistle just for Rick. Once, a few months ago, Daryl took the sheriff hunting with him. He taught him all his whistles, hunting calls, as he named them. All of the hunter's calls had been memorized by Rick as soon as he had heard Daryl using them. They used this code every since, making it a useful addition to the already vast ocean of ways of communicating they had with each other. On that hunting day, though, Daryl used one call Rick had not recognized. The sheriff asked him about it later, and Daryl beamed at him and prised him for noticing. When Rick asked what it means, Daryl just grinned and told him to figure it out.

The sheriff did. After a few days. Or rather, nights, for Daryl whistled it a few times they were together. Rick got it then – it was a whistle of his name. Daryl's equivalent of 'Rick' in his own peculiar language. The sheriff had a bit of a problem focusing on the next hunting trip when he heard that tune again, trying to figure out if he was more moved by Daryl's hidden romanticism, or the wild arousal that filled his veins when the whistle brought back the memories of its last usage.

And now, working in the field, feeling almost too tired to continue, Rick heard that whistle again. He spotted Daryl as soon as he turned around, a compact shadow sitting under the wall. The sheriff huffed and started in his direction, his tools and garden totally forgotten behind him. He stalked close, taking long steps to get to the man as soon as he could. He needed Daryl in every second of his life and, while it became a normal feeling to have for him, at times like this, after a long day's work, he just craved to be close to his hunter.

After walking closer, he slowed down, noticing Daryl's expression and his hungry stare. Rick paused mid-step and the hunter's head snapped up, eyes piercing his own. Rick knew Daryl had a thing for his hips, but he didn't know he had a thing for his legs, too. But the way the other man was eying them again and again, licking his lips, his own legs twitching, the sheriff really felt like a prey being watched by a hungry cat. A very dangerous hungry cat with a big appetite.

“Hey” Rick said, starting to move again. Daryl didn't say anything until he closed the remaining distance, still eye-fucking him. Or rather his legs, for Rick could almost feel the hunter's caressing gaze on his thighs. He stopped in front of Daryl, shifting his weight on one leg, the other slightly bent at the knee. He was provoking him, and he was fully aware of this fact.

The hunter licked his lips again and looked up, piercing Rick with his eyes. The sheriff swallowed and waited for the next move, one hand going to his hip. He wanted to hook his thumb over the gun belt as he was wont to do, but he forgot he didn't take it with him. Instead he decided to hook it in the waistband of his jeans, unintentionally pushing it a bit lower with the weight of his arm.

“Fuck, Rick” Daryl groaned, eyes running over the older man's body again. The hungry stare stopped at his legs again and Rick started to wonder what the hell was Daryl's fixation this time.

The hunter didn't pay any attention to the thoughtful face his sheriff was wearing, mesmerized by the two long legs on display for him, clad in a pair of jeans that were just perfectly balanced between too tight and too loose. He had noticed Rick's bowlegs way before he had noticed just how much they turn him on. Lifetimes and lifetimes away, when they were in the CDC, just after they arrived and got epically drunk on Jenner's scientifically approved wine, Rick got a bit more active than usual. Instead of sitting in his seat and drinking that stupid, hangover-inducing wine, he started to walk around the room, talking to people and joking around. By the time he made his third round, Daryl was sitting much as he was now, just with a half-empty bottle of wine in his hand instead. But the look he got on his face must have been pretty similar to the one he was wearing now.

Especially after Rick walked around the table yet another time, Daryl's face on a perfect level to marvel at the man's legs. The hunter had a bit of a problem later, and it sort of involved the question of how the man even got bowlegs like that. Up until then, Daryl had never seen the sheriff ride a bike, let alone a horse....

That last thought made the evening even harder, for Daryl had to keep biting his own hand to keep quiet through two spectacular orgasms that night, and one the next morning. Although, at that time, they involved Rick riding him, and not Rick's legs in particular – that came later.

“You okay?” The voice of the man in question asked from above, and Daryl's eyes snapped to his once more. Whatever the sheriff saw in them made his throat bob, which in turn made the hunter want to suck and lick it until he had Rick hard and hot, panting in his ear and rutting against him in a frenzy.

“You're fucking impossible, you know that?” Daryl growled out, sitting up straighter against the wall.

“You're eye-fucking my legs, and _I'm_ the impossible one, huh?” He said, smiling, but could feel sparks of arousal tingling the base of his spine as soon as Daryl's heated gaze met him.

“Come 'ere” the hunter gruffed, mentioning for him to get closer.

Rick did so, walking as close as he could and stopping inches from his lover, one foot on either side of Daryl's thighs. The hunter groaned out an approving sound and grabbed Rick's thighs, nails digging in the worn-out denim. The sheriff hissed, feeling the piercing points through the material of his jeans and gasped at the strength behind each of Daryl's moves. He could feel the hunter rubbing his face all over his thighs, hip to knee, first the outside, then the inside of them. He couldn't help but smirk – just like a fucking cat, marking what's his.

And then Rick jerked, arms flailing to Daryl's head, and a startled yelp escaping his throat.

Daryl _bit_ him.

He fucking bit him on the inside of his thigh, and _fuck_ , Rick could feel it even through the material. He tried to get away, but Daryl's hands were keeping him in place, and _Christ_ , he was sure he will have a bruise there. He tugged at the hunter's hair and tried to dislodge the teeth still clamped down on his thigh, but Daryl was not letting go, and just when Rick started to wonder what the hell has gotten into him, he opened his jaw just the tiniest bit, just enough to let the blood flow back to the tissue, and then bit _again_.

Harder this time.

And Rick could not stop the groan that escaped him to save his life. The sheriff felt the teeth retreat, felt the mark pulsing and throbbing with his heartbeat, and then it got hot and wet, and Rick had to look down, because _what_ _now_...

Daryl has freed his leg from his teeth, but started to lick and suck at the same place, hot, wet breaths penetrating through the denim and onto Rick's throbbing flesh, and _really_ , it shouldn't feel so good, but it somehow did, and the sheriff found himself making the most embarrassing noises out there, in the prison yard.

Daryl pulled off only after his saliva soaked through Rick's jeans, leaving the cooling spot in favor of taking hold of the sheriff's waistband. He quickly unbuttoned it and lowered the zipper, looking up at Rick, eyes sharp with intent. The other man hissed when the cool air hit his exposed flesh. Daryl pried his jeans open and licked his lips discovering that Rick wasn't wearing anything underneath, giving him a free access to his already hard cock. He looked up at him again, half smirk evident on his face.

“Naughty sheriff” he tsked, taking Rick out and giving him a firm squeeze. The man moaned low and bucked his hips into the movement, feeling himself hardening even more.

“It's deputy” he huffed out, “and I don't hear you complaining...”

“Fuck, no!” Was Daryl's enthusiastic replay, and it was the last thing Rick heard, before he was sucked into his hot, wet mouth.

The sheriff groaned, both hands fisting in Daryl's hair, keeping him grounded. He could feel every movement of his hunter's tongue, every twitch on the shaft, every swipe over the head, every dip in the tiny slit at the top, as if Daryl tried to lick every inch of him at once, inside and out. Rick's hips jerked, when that tongue teased at the slit again, before it dove lower, just under the head. His nerves were on fire and his legs trembled, and of course Daryl noticed. He pulled off, quickly grabbing the other man's thighs again, holding him up.

He squeezed both his hands, feeling the muscles straining under his touch.

“Fuck, Rick, you and your _fucking_ _legs_ will be the death of me” he scraped his nails all the way down to Rick's calves and back up, squeezing over the mark he made as he went. Rick moaned and propped himself against the wall behind Daryl, his whole body leaning over the hunter. The other man seemed to be as impatient as he himself was, for the next thing he knew, Daryl had both his hands on Rick's jeans, and was tugging them down in hurry.

“Wait, _fuck_... Daryl, wait” the sheriff groaned out, feeling the cold air hit his exposed ass. The hunter didn't pay him any attention as he quickly lifted one of his legs to remove his trousers.

“Shut up” was Daryl's eloquent insight, after sharing which, he started to tug the trousers off of his other leg.

“Daryl, shit, we're out in the open” the sheriff tried to reason, even though his own brain was fried, doing happy loopy loops every time his lover kissed any exposed inch of skin.

“Then you should keep quiet” the hunter growled and sucked two of his fingers inside his mouth, tearing a groan out of Rick.

The older man could feel his vision narrowing to Daryl, the man who was the center of his universe. Looking down at his hunter, his own body shivering, he knew he was royally fucked. Right in this moment the sheriff knew that if Daryl as much as mentioned he wanted to fuck him on their dinner table in the middle of the day with their whole group watching, the only thing escaping Rick's lips would be 'yes, please, now'.

The sheriff was brought back by Daryl's left hand forcing his thighs further apart and those two, now wet and shiny fingers circling his entrance. He moaned loudly, feeling stupidly aroused at being in the open, even though he knew it was a somehow shielded side of the prison. If anyone wanted to wander in on them by accident, they would have make two turns and walk around the corner to find the couple. And even then, most of the people living in the prison were adults, doing adult stuff, Judith was still too young to walk, and Carl was on a curfew for a fight with one of the kids in the block D.

A hiss escaped the sheriff's lips when Daryl's fingers breached him, two at the same time. The stretch burned, but since they got together, they had done it even completely unprepared a few times. Rick could do it. He looked down at Daryl and had to bit his lip hard not to start whining. The hunter looked like a man starving and Rick was his only food. Daryl's eyes were hazy and his lips were parted, panting breath escaping him. He moved his fingers inside the sheriff, and this time Rick couldn't stop the sound from escaping his mouth.

The older man felt like he was on fire, with his nerves frying and the heat all over him. He licked his lips and watched Daryl's face, features clouded with want, until he couldn't take it anymore. The hurried and a little aggressive slide of the other man's fingers inside his body, the little movements of Daryl's hips, as if his body was rehearsing what he'll be doing soon, the hard clench of his other hand on Rick's thigh...

“Come on, 'nother one” Rick murmured in a low voice, knowing he'll be heard anyway. Daryl moaned out and brought another finger to his opening, running the tip lightly over the stretched rim, before he pressed it in on the slide. He kept pushing, until all three of his fingers were embedded as deep as they would go inside his lover. Rick groaned, his hands landing on the wall above Daryl's head, keeping him upright. It was a tight fit, but it was delicious. The stretch, the slight burn, his hunter's warm gasps on his thighs.

Daryl started to pull his fingers out, and Rick moaned in approval, just before they were jammed back in roughly, the tips brushing against his sweet spot. It drove him wild, and his hips bucked up, his body seeking the pleasure on its own. He pushed right back down, making Daryl's fingers brush against his prostate once again, moaning through gritted teeth. He desperately tried to stay quiet, mindful that they were in the open space, but to tell the truth, the possibility of getting caught in act was making him feel even more aroused. He was painfully hard, and the sight of Daryl, sitting beneath him, one hand sneaking to the front of his pants to rub his cock, brought liquid flame into his veins.

Rick needed to have him inside, right this instant. The sheriff stepped higher over Daryl, knelt down wincing when the concrete beneath them scraped at his knees. He straddled Daryl's lap, and quickly tugged the other man's pants down a bit, exposing his thick length. Rick licked his lips, staring down at the man, noticing just how hard he was. Daryl groaned when one of Rick's hands sneaked to grab him, wrapped around and giving him a few slow strokes. The hunter groaned and his hands fell to Rick's hips, thumbs digging into the hollows next to his hipbones.

“Fuck... Rick” he groaned and leaned in to capture the sheriff's mouth, making Rick moan around his tongue which forced its way inside. The kiss was as filthy as they get, with Daryl mimicking just what he would be doing in a moment with another parts of their bodies. The older man's body shivered and squirmed in place, the hand on Daryl's cock squeezing the flesh between his fingers, making the other man groan.

“C'mon, Daryl” Rick breathed as he lifted himself on his knees and guided Daryl's length to his opening. He slowly lowered his ass, the tip of the other man's cock breaching him, pushing in, stretching, making him grit his teeth against the slight burn as his muscles gave. Rick paused for just a second when the broad head popped in. He took a deep breath and continued to slide down Daryl's length, feeling how the hands on his hips tightened, digging the nails into his flesh.

“ _Fuuuck_ ” Daryl breathed once the man was sitting on his lap, cock as deep inside Rick's body as it could go, his ass flush with the hunter's thighs. The sheriff heaved a few breaths, body twitching and muscles spasming around the flesh spearing him in two. Daryl's cock was thick, much thicker than his own, and just having him inside was enough to press on his sweet spot all the time. It was glorious, even if the stretch around the length burned like hell. He swallowed and opened his eyes... when did he even close them?

Daryl had his mouth open and was leaning on the wall with a blissed out look on his face. Rick leaned in and kissed him hungrily, shifting his hips slightly. Daryl's body immediately responded, hands squeezing the other man's hips hard enough to leave bruises and his back arching off the cold wall behind him. He bit Rick's lip, sucked on his tongue for a moment and then pulled back.

“Move” he whispered, lowering his forehead to Rick's chest. The sheriff pulled up and then slowly slided back down, provoking a helpless half-thrust of Daryl's hips. The hunter had no leverage to properly move, and his body twitched every time Rick did something with his hips. When the sheriff finally got used to the feeling of being so full of his lover, he set a tortuously slow rhythm, pulling up till almost the whole length was out and then slamming his hips down, taking Daryl as deep as he could.

“Fuck!” The hunter threw on an exhale, the pace driving him mad with want. He moved his palms from Rick's hips to his thighs, short nails scratching at the delicate skin. The tight pull of the older man's ass was sure to drive him wild, the squeeze and the friction both too delicious to stand for long. He looked up and had to bite his own lips not to whine.

Rick was beautiful. Strong and lean body, the muscles of his arms on display under the folded-up sleeves, tight little ass... just looking at him like that would be enough to bring the other man off. And now? Having that powerful, rough man writhing and moaning on his cock? This feeling was heady, and Daryl felt it like a liquid heat flowing through his body.

The man on top of him groaned, flexing his hips quicker, feeling Daryl bucking up under him, driving himself deep into his body. One of the hunter's hands traveled to Rick's cock, wrapping around it and stroking at a matching pace. He could feel himself leaking all over Daryl's hand, enough to slick the movements, giving the slide just the right amount of friction.

The hunter continued to jack him off, his other hand still running up and down the length of Rick's thigh, squeezing the shifting muscles, thumb rubbing soothing circles on the skin one second, and nails digging deep enough to leave bruises a moment later. He could feel the sheriff's body tightening, he knew he was close. He moved one of Rick's hands to grab his cock, and placed both of his on Rick's ass, helping him to move faster. The other man obliged with a drawn out moan, picking up a punishing rhythm, eyes falling closer as more and more moans escaped him.

Then Rick yelped when Daryl suddenly flipped him on his back and plunged back deep inside him, growling as he went. Rick's legs immediately wrapped around him, bringing him as close as he could, his ass spasming around his length. Daryl captured his mouth in a messy kiss, catching his tongue and sucking at it when he started to move again, hard and fast.

“Shit, Daryl.... Fuck, baby, I'm close” Rick managed to gasp between hungry sucks on his tongue. Daryl moaned in approval and drove his hips even harder, jostling his whole body.

“Come, Rick...” he grunted out, turning his face into Rick's shoulder and biting the flesh he found there.

The man beneath him shouted and came, squeezing around him like a vice, hips twitching and body trembling. His head filled with white noise and the only thing he was capable of processing was his hunter's name like a prayer on his lips. Daryl helped him ride his climax out, moving in and out a few times, pace slowing down until Rick stilled him with his legs.

“ _Shit_ ” he whispered in awe, looking at the other man. Daryl was still hard, still deep inside him, the thick length pressing against his prostate and making him twitch from over-stimulation. The other man saw the aborted wince on Rick's face and pulled out, moving to kiss him, straddling Rick's leg when he crawled up his body.

When their lips met, Rick could feel just how aroused his hunter was, teeth digging desperately into his bottom lip, and a soft growl escaping Daryl when his cock rubbed on the other man's thigh.

“Come on, then” The older man managed between kisses, one hand pressing the other man's hips flush with his thigh. Daryl looked at him in surprise, he never suspected Rick would be into letting him rut on him like a horny dog in heat. But the eyes still dark with desire convinced him. He shifted his hips experimentally and had to bit his own lip not to make any embarrassing sounds. The friction was just too delicious, just on the right side of rough, but not overly so. He started to move in short quick moves, the slide slicked by hi own precome. _God_ he was close. He had been close ever since Rick came, squeezing around him, and now...

“Hey” Rick brought one hand to his chin, lifting his head so that Daryl was forced to look at him. He felt Rick's thumb gently tug his bottom lip from between his teeth. “I want to hear you.”

“ _Rick_...” he breathed out, head fuzzy from pleasure.

“No, I want to hear you, baby” Rick took his face into his hands, watching Daryl closely, pressing chaste little kisses on his mouth between words.

“I want to hear everything. Come on, show me how much you like my legs” at that Daryl moaned and moved harder. He could feel one of Rick's hands sneaking from his face down the length of his body, down over his back and to his ass. It settled on one cheek, squeezing it tightly, before one finger moved to his entrance. Daryl whined when it pressed inside.  
  
Rick had his head down, whispering dirty things right into his ear, and that stupid finger was wriggling inside him, and he felt like he was on fire. 

“Come, baby. Come and scream my name” Rick licked at his ear, his little wet tongue worming its way inside. That was it for Daryl. His whole body seized, muscles locking themselves as he exploded right on Rick's leg, the warm release sticky and heavy on the older man's skin. He might have shouted Rick's name, he didn't know...

“That's it” Rick whispered, sucking a mark on his neck, his finger still moving inside the other man's ass, drawing the most delicious shivers out of him. When Daryl came down from his high he just collapsed on top of his lover, breathing heavy and completely boneless. The sheriff had the audacity to laugh, a short little barked out sound of happiness. Daryl opened his eyes and blinked a few times, looking up at him in confusion.

“Hell, Daryl, if I knew you liked looking at my legs so much, I would have looked for a pair of shorts to wear” he said, grin spreading on his face. Daryl tried to huff in annoyance, but the effect lost all its drama when he felt a happy little jolt seeing Rick's eyes crinkle with joy.

“Don't you dare” he gruffed out instead.

“But baby, you love my legs” Rick's grin widened.

“Ya know, if you want to end up being fucked every time I saw you in shorts, _including_ dinners, then go on” Daryl murmured, placing his head back on Rick's chest.

He thought it would put the sheriff off the idea of getting shorts, which was dangerous in itself. The man underneath him prayed that Daryl wouldn't feel the slight twitch his spent cock gave at the mental image of being fucked on their dinner table. _During_ the dinner time. God, he was turning into a sex crazed teenager.... Not that he minded, he thought, wrapping one arm around his hunter.


End file.
